Are Redheads Really So Bad?
by Flying Penguinz
Summary: Myrnin and Sam are scheduled a play date by Amelie.


Amelie was off working while Sam was babysitting in Myrnin's lab. Sam had been ordered to watch Myrnin because Amelie thought Myrnin had been causing an exceptional amount of mischief that week. So much so that when Myrnin heard of the number of laws he'd broken in the week and havoc he'd created, he had been proud.

Sam had arrived at Myrnin's door awkwardly, rubbing his neck as if it were giving him back pain to be at Myrnin's doorstep.

They stood in silence for a full three minutes with one vampire staring at the other until Sam spoke first.

"So... can I come in?" the fledgling asked, moving his weight to another foot.

Myrnin shrugged. "Why not," he said and finally moved aside to let Sam walk through the threshold. When the two men reached the bottom, Myrnin watched Sam's reaction to the lab closely, for the ginger hadn't been here since it had been restored after Bishop ransacked the place.

"Nice," Sam said about the refurnished laboratory, obviously not feeling that way. Myrnin could tell he was just trying to make small talk. Sam stopped when he saw a sheep carcass on an examining table in the far corner of the lab. "Umm... Myrnin? What is that?"

Myrnin enjoyed the redheaded man's expression as he looked at the sheep. "I was bored," Myrnin answered simply.

Sam nodded, continuing to look around the lab. Myrnin watched in silence.

Ten awkward seconds later, Sam gestured to the wing-back chair and said, "Do you mind if I take a seat?"

"NO!" Myrnin flew into the wing-back chair. "Bad Sam. Bad, _bad _Sam. Sam gets the folding chair," he said, indicating the gray metal chair in the corner covered in cobwebs. "Bad Samuel. Sit."

Sam looked at Myrnin with wide eyes as he moved to sit in the chair. "Myrnin? Is the disease coming back?"

Myrnin's face went like this: **T_T**

"Why is it that everyone asks me that? As if _I'd_ automatically be the first to know. Maybe it will be some random vampire no one knows about and then everyone would be all, 'Who's that?' And then everyone else would be like, 'No idea. But it looks as though he's got a disease.' And then I'll be called and I'll be all, 'Whoa, looks like this vampire has a disease.' And then everyone will be like, 'Oh, I thought Myrnin was going to get it again first. But then I'll be all, 'Well I didn't, idiots! So suck my'"—Myrnin's face went like: **O.O** and then he blushed at the word he was about to use. "—Anyway... I hope this scenario helped you realize that I may not be the first to know. It could be a random vampire." Myrnin gazed at him as if trying to peer into his soul. Unfortunately, that was impossible, for Sam was a soulless ginger. "See, Samuel? Good Sam."

Sam sighed and scratched his head, glancing at the dead sheep once again, as if the thing were going to come back to life and come after him.

"Samuel Glass," Myrnin said firmly, "the animal is dead. If its ghost is lingering, it won't be after you." A slow, insane smile spread across Myrnin's face. "It'll be after its great-grandfather who was named Gunther." He made his eyes cross.

Sam looked like this: **O_O**

Sam cleared his throat and blinked his eyes back to their normal size. "Do you know how long Amelie's going to be gone, Myrnin?" he asked.

Myrnin shrugged, entirely indifferent. "No idea. Sometimes she works for weeks on end." With that realization, Myrnin was like: **O_O** He was so happy, in fact, that he blurted, "SAM, WE COULD HAVE A SLEEPOVER!"

Sam was so taken aback by the loud scream, he fell out of the uncomfortable folding chair and onto the nice, antique rug.

Myrnin wouldn't have it.

"Sam, if you are to visit so we may have a sleepover, you are not to piddle on the fine rug from Persia, do you hear?" Myrnin stood and set his hands on his hips. "The fine rug from Persia shall remain unpiddled on."

Sam stood with all the grace and effortlessness of a vampire—but what Myrnin saw was a clumsy, awkward movement of limbs and ginger hair.

"Never mind, Sam. You're too ginger to be here. Get out."

And Myrnin threw Sam out into the alley where garbage cans lined the wall. Good, Myrnin thought. Sam was right where he belonged.


End file.
